


The Collection

by Sunny1221



Category: General Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-13 17:57:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13575918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunny1221/pseuds/Sunny1221
Summary: Yeah, this is for an English project so whatever.





	1. One Day - A Poem

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is for an English project so whatever.

One day, I’ll be safe.  
One day, I will breathe morning air without my mind weighed down with thoughts of those who hate me. Or rather, the ones who don’t know they hate me yet.  
One day, I will hold my partner’s hand, whoever that may be, with confidence and without fear. One day, I will wake up next to them and smile and think of how silly I was to think this wouldn’t happen.  
One day, I will allow more than thirty minutes for myself to write, to create each day.  
One day I will not worry about not gaining attention, but receiving too much of it.  
One day, I will look in a mirror and smile because I have come so far. I am beautiful, I am glorious, I am all that the powers that be wanted me to become.  
One day, I will not care what other people say.  
That day is not today. But I know it is coming because nobody should go through something like this. I know I am worth so much more.  
And one day, I will feel like it.


	2. La Vie En Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the past and future intertwine in the best of ways.

June 23, 1957

Our castle was but a simple one. A bedroom on one end, a bath on the other, and a kitchen and sitting room placed snugly in between. It wasn’t very spacious, but it was ours. Our castle. 

It was owned by my friend, Charlie, who had graciously bought it under his name. He was the only one who knew and, at the time, the only one we had planned on telling. Him being as queer as the pair of us, we knew it was safe. Looking back I can see how much has changed. 

This particular morning was early into our arrangement. We were both still wild and young, one in an unhappy marriage and the other in a less than satisfactory career. That’s why we went to our castle -- an escape from the real world to euphoria. Our get away.

It was Sunday. We had spent the previous night together, just like every Saturday. I was in the kitchen, humming as I prepared coffee and breakfast, content with the world that consisted of us and the apartment. As sunlight poured in through the kitchen window, grease popped in the frying pan, creating a beat along to my humming.

This all was soon drowned out by the sound of the phonograph in the bedroom. 

I smiled, knowing that you were now awake, as well, listening to the song you had chosen. My humming had stopped, leaving only the noise of the popping bacon and eggs to accompany the song. 

My grin grew when the door opened, causing the music to swell and become clearer. Behind me, I heard your footsteps crossing the room towards me. I did not turn as you embraced my from behind, burying your face into my shoulder.

“Good morning,” you muttered, your voice thick with sleep. 

“Darling,” I said, showing my acknowledgment as I poured your coffee. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” I let out a sigh as you kissed my neck, then let go of me. I finally looked at you as you took the coffee. Your hair was still a mess from where I had pulled and ran my fingers through it. Your nightgown was low enough to see the marks I had left up and down your collar bones, contrasting against your tan skin. You looked beautiful; I had created art and I took pride in that. 

Wordlessly, you went to our tiny kitchen table, taking the carton of cigarettes from the bookshelf as you went. I sipped my coffee, then went back to the food, transferring it to a plate. The atmosphere around us was filled with music and the smell of breakfast, all of that forming into clouds as the cigarette smoke wafted to the ceiling. 

I didn’t know it at the time, but you had been watching me. You propped your face up on your elbows, occasionally breathing in the smoke, watching the back of my form. You were focusing on the sound of my voice as I hummed along to the music, to the foreign words I did not understand at the time. You were looking at the scratches on my hips that I did not know where visible. You were taking me in like I had done with you only seconds before. 

“I’m going to marry you,” you said, your words stopping my humming almost instantly. All movement and noise between us ceased, leaving only the phonograph to fill the silence. You were just as shocked as I at your words.

I turned, my face blank.

“Jean…” I didn’t know how to continue. 

“I mean it,” you said. Your voice was firm and insistent. “One day, I’m going to marry you. One day, you’ll leave Rob and I’ll quit my job at the school. Then, we’ll run off and get married.”

“Run off where?” I asked, still unsure as to whether you were joking or not. “Where on earth could we go, Jean? Who would marry us?”

“Places in Europe say that we aren’t illegal,” you pointed out. “And straight couples like us can be married in New York!” You were now referring to the fact I was black and you were not. And part of me knew you were right.

“But married? Who would marry us?”

“I’m not saying I’m marrying you tomorrow,” you had told me. “Hell, I’m not sure if I’ll marry you in the next ten years! But mark my words, Gloria, I’m going to marry you.” I let out a huff of laughter, trying to keep from smiling as I shook my head. 

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you, doll.”

“Shut up and put that cigarette out. Don’t want to smell that while I eat.”

-

November 17, 2012

Nothing is certain in life. Not power, not air, not trust… the fact you’ll still be alive in five minutes is not guaranteed. I know that at any moment we could all die or someone could break into my tiny apartment. Nothing is certain in my life especially because it’s far too messy.

Well, almost. 

There is one thing that gives me routine, that marks the ending of the day. It starts at 8:05 almost every night. As the street lights turn on and dusk falls over my city, the sound of music drifts into my home.

I’m not the one playing it. It’s old music, music that belongs in a time period long gone, to people who will be gone soon, as well. But it’s still beautiful. 

My building is at the end of a chain of other structures. At the end of my building is a small alleyway, then the next small apartment complex is next to it. Across from me, is the home of two old women, who play this music every night. The only reason I hear it is because they keep their windows open, letting it drift out into the night.   
They are the only reason I keep my windows open and my curtains drawn. I can look out my window, right into their living room. Inside, around 8:05 every night, I can spot them swaying and dancing with each other. Dancing as if they will never get to dance again.

I’ve asked about them to the tenants of the other building. Some frown in disgust, others smile with fondness. But the one who loves to talk about them the most is the landlady.

“The Reeds have the most amazing story,” she would gush. “You see, Gloria was a housewife and Jean worked as a teacher. They met one day at church and things developed. They had an affair but had to keep it secret. You can imagine the scandal if they had been caught! But then, Gloria’s husband died in… oh, 1962? He was a nasty man and Gloria was glad to be rid of him. Anywho, Jean and Gloria began living together, until about nine years ago. That’s when Jean proposed. Oh, Gloria loves talking about it. She’ll tell you that she was just doing dishes, per usual, when Jean comes in and hugs her from behind, per usual. Then, Jean just shows her a little black box in her hand. 

“‘We’re legal now, Gloria,’” she says. Gloria, of course, is shocked, so she drops the plate. Then, they drive up to Massachusetts and get married. Poor dears waited so long, but they will tell you time and time again that it was worth it.”

Their landlady was a talkative woman so I did my best to escape the telling of their entire life story.  
But after talking to their landlady, I look out my window differently. I see two people who waited over fifty years to get married. I see two women who loved each other so much they took dangerous risks just to be together. How they held out till the end for each other.

When I look out my window, I know nothing in life is certain. But seeing the golden bands on their fingers catching the light makes me hope that one day, I’ll find someone who will want to grow old with me, too. Uncertainties and all.


	3. I Thought Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignore this one please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t look please.

I can't help but think of the moment  
When my loved ones will be gone, it will be over  
When I won't have a wall or cover  
When I lose my final lover  
I know that pen and paper will be my solace  
But life will be over more or less  
Sure I'll have ideas and words full of pain  
Flooding through the gates inside my brain  
But it will be a vicious attack  
That won't lack the proper tactical advantages  
To tear me down from the inside and out  
Till nothing's left but a sound  
A whisper of a voice crying out from the dark  
You can't tell it and silence apart  
But it's there and you need to take care  
To focus and not let distractions drown it out  
Because it's got a message nobody can live without  
And the message is simple, a common principle  
And it is this list:  
"Be sure to live like you won't see tomorrow,  
"Run like you've got someone important to follow,  
"And be sure to love and show mercy like you've got no pride to swallow."  
Yes, live like this, live for today  
Though I can't promise things will go your way  
But one things certain  
If you do this your curtain call  
Shall not fall too soon  
Your story will be told for generations under the moon  
At least I hope that's how it is  
That's just what I've been told  
Maybe I'll feel different once actually I've gotten old  
I want to be remembered  
Don't let me be forgotten  
Please tell about my world of blue grass  
And how my fingers were always cold  
Tell them that I did my best to love and be kind  
Tell them all the story of how I tried, mind  
The fact the words didn't always come out right  
I may be a wordsmith, but let's face it  
I'm very pretentious and imperfect  
Pretentious is not a word to take lightly  
Because it actually is a trait that hides the fear inside  
Failure and fear of rejection covered by cockiness and 'perfection'  
Idealistic words hiding the shame for myself  
Because I don't love me, just like everybody else  
We're all just trying to make it in this cruel, material world  
We're all in the mud, trying to listen to the voice you recently heard  
Something about living for today and living like you'll die  
Which you will; that's why you must strengthen your ties  
To the people who'll go later, so they'll think  
Think of you and reminisce on the times they miss  
Of your smiling face and the sugar coated words  
That fell from your mouth to the earth  
Poisoning the land because you can't the things you've said back again  
Oh, there I am again, so very pretentious  
Acting as if you're worse than me  
Even though, in the end, we're all the same  
Man, woman, gay, in between, straight,  
Smart, dumb, old, young, color of skin or weight  
Does not matter in the end of all things  
Whatever god you believe in does not mean  
You won't die in the end and that your body  
Won't become apart of the dirt one day  
That's how we're the same  
We're all going to die and-  
Oh. I said too much again, with my imperfect mouth  
Sorry. I suppose I shouldn't've come out  
I just think far too much about the grand scheme of things  
Wondering what tomorrow will bring for me  
Obsessed with my future and legacy  
Now maybe you will wonder too  
I'm sorry I thought too much  
I'll see you when we make our final adieus


End file.
